Final Fantasy XI: The Flames of T'dal
by lynx-y3k
Summary: He awakes not knowing his own face, haunted by the slain village of his people, a wanderer seeks his own memories. Wishing to confront the one who cursed his soul.


**Final Fantasy XI: The Flames of T'dal.**

**Chapter One: Sorrowed Faces**

Dead flesh crept into the air, already rotting as the flames of death danced over the fallen town. No one had been left alive, it was a massacre. Lifeless bodies of the once proud Hume town covered the blood stained ground, even the children were not allowed to live. Poor souls that would not be able to ascend into the Farplane until their deaths were avenged and a Summoner would grant them their sending. Until that day comes, they will forever remain part of the death that now would live in the dark land.

Amongst the death something stirs, the mists of hate moves ever-so slowly towards what is left in such a sorrowed place. A man, almost lifeless, weakened by the towns demise lies in the stench of now cold blood, aching from the death that came to his people.

Coldness stabbed his body as the icy rain began to fall. Engulfing flames would not be fought by the rain that attacked them and the almost lifeless body now looked upon the gloomy clouds that brought only darkness. His weakened body fought to stand as every part of him hurt with each breathe and with every heartbeat he would fight to keep his eyes open. All the death around him made him wish for it all to end, it had to be a nightmare, nothing that horrible could consume his once peaceful life.

As he made his way through the nightmare he had woken up in, he could not help but look at the slain, their burnt remains, most of them with their flesh torn from their bodies, from the look of what he could see, the people of this town had been massacred by beastman, but none had ever been this gruesome to leave a town so badly ripped apart. His eyes looked around the village and noticed that there was none of the beastmans bodies, and they mostly always left their dead, that he knew from his confused mind.

The thoughts that echoed throughout his mind caused nothing but pain, thinking of the ones who were now lost, so much sadness attacked him, and the faces of all the villagers hurt him, mentally and physically, and he could no longer keep his body up, as his steps away from the now sorrowed field of death made him stumble to his knees, still feeling the blood seep slowly from his own torn body. In horror as he looked at his hands, the blood covered everything, even him.

"Who would want to cause so much death?" One question he was not sure he wanted an answer, only the coldest of hearts would wish for this reckless hate. If it had not been for the flames that continued to destroy the town, he would stay and bury all the lost, but heat and ice hit him hard, forcing him to flee for cover, but nowhere could be see, apart from the shadows of the forest, even as an adult he would not want to find himself wandering such a damned place.

With each step through the cold icy rain, he no longer knew which were puddles of rain from the rivers of blood. Knowing that he must get away from the death that pained him, he made haste and began to head away from the village. Looking up he could see only one place to go, somewhere that he wished not to venture.

With nowhere else to go, and only his ripped clothes to cover his blood-torn body, he stepped carefully into the forest, a place that would cause nightmares as a child, but now was his only sanctuary. Closing his eyes and taking a deep painful breathe, his feet led the way, his hands out front, once again darkness consumed him. Not wanting to look back a single tear rolled over his cheek and fell to the ground, he could not remember the town, he could not remember the faces of the dead. His sadness for the remembrance of his own damned name.

Through the thick falling vines of the entrance of the forest, he could only see darkness, shadows moving in the corner of his eyes as he kept getting deeper into the place that he feared from such an early age, but he could not remember why, thinking back, he could not remember the stories, only that he had been told them. Again faces entered his thoughts, but he did not recognise them, and at that moment, he saw ahead of him a ray of moonlight shining through the canopy of green.

Trickling through the forest was a small stream, with glistening clear water. Not deep, he could see the bottom, the distance from hand to elbow, but enough for him to fall into, to rinse away all the blood and death. He could feel the cold enter his own wounds, easing them from the searing pain he had felt when he first opened his eyes. Then he was as clean as he could be, cold, wet, but clean. He sat up with his aching body and looked down at the stream that was now almost clear from his dark blood. For what felt like the first time, he saw his face, but he did not recognise it.

His hair was scruffy and short, not black nor brown. He could feel softness as he ran his fingers through it. Trying to look closer to see his eyes, green fading to blue, almost like the stars that sparkled in the night sky. His skin was pale and he wore no scars upon his face, only the sorrow look that crept over him. Some ease calmed his mind, knowing that he could see who he was, no monster, no beast, only hume from his sight. Almost smiling he now looked at his body. Torn and covered in tattered bloodstained clothing, once white with brown thread, now it was just something that covered his body, yet did not keep the cold out.

Something still caused him pain, he could not remember the village he had woken in, he did not recognise the dead, let alone his own face, and the ease that he felt only a moment earlier faded like the moonlight that once showed him his lost face. Standing, he stepped out of the cold water and moved on into the forest that now only loomed in darkness and shadow. He would walk until he found someone who could help him, or at best a shelter from the icy wind that danced around him.

AN:This story will soon be connected with A Mithra's Spirit by pyrotechnic-kitty. If you would like to contact me on the Final Fantasy XI game, I am on the Asura server as Dyce.


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